


Worthy of Devotion

by eeyore9990



Series: 30 Thankful Days [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 05:37:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5152286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek spends so long being the quiet strength that the pack leans on that it drains him, leaves him an emotional wreck that only Stiles can fix.  With Stiles away at college, Derek has to last that much longer before he can let himself break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worthy of Devotion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BookGeekGrrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookGeekGrrl/gifts).



> 30 Thankful Days, Day 5: Gift for bookgeekgrrl.

Stiles had his phone in his hand when the loft door rolled open. Checking the message he’d composed, he pressed send before looking up and nearly dropped his phone when he saw Derek. 

_Shit_ , he thought, though he kept that sentiment held tight behind his teeth. 

Derek looked … beautiful, of course he did, but it was the beauty of shattered glass and blood drops. His face was pale, drawn, the circles under his eyes almost as dark as the beard that hadn’t quite been kept up. He looked bruised and battered, and _it was all Stiles’ fault._

“Hey, buddy,” Stiles said, not allowing his voice to be soft or soothing. Any hint of pity or sympathy would shut Derek down like flipping a breaker. “You eat yet?” 

Derek dropped his chin in a nod, like words were just too exhausting. It was okay, though, because Stiles had learned how to read what Derek didn’t say. And right now what he wasn’t saying was so loud that it nearly deafened Stiles. What he wasn’t saying rang of desperate loneliness and misery. Of holding himself back because he was afraid to ask for anything from the people who’d do anything for him if they knew he needed it. Only none of them _did_ know, because Derek never showed them this. 

Stiles was the only one Derek let see his vulnerability. 

So he stepped into the loft, yanking the door shut behind him as he pocketed his phone, safe in the certainty that his text to the pack would keep them from being interrupted. When his hands were free, he turned and wrapped his arms around Derek, holding him through the initial stiffness and let random sentiments like, “God, I’ve missed you” and “you smell so good” and “I’ve needed this so much” spill from his lips. None of what he said was a lie, he meant every word of it, but it also wasn’t for his benefit. He said all that because with every word that he breathed against Derek’s skin, Derek pressed closer until he was nearly boneless against Stiles. 

“That’s it,” Stiles murmured, scratching his fingers through Derek’s hair as Derek just lay against him, barely standing on his own two feet anymore. Stiles didn’t complain though, wouldn’t even if he wanted to. Not at a time like this. “I’ve got you.” 

When Stiles started moving, Derek went with him, more helping to relocate his own body than because he _wanted_ to move. Thankfully the big bed was still on the main floor and not up the tightly curving staircase. It was there Stiles led them both, sinking down onto the soft mattress and tugging Derek with him. 

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, not surprised when Derek just shook his head, his beard scratching at Stiles’ throat. “Okay, you don’t have to. Not right now. Maybe later, when you’re feeling up to it.” 

He stroked his hands down Derek’s back, vaguely irritated to feel cloth under his palms instead of skin. Nudging Derek, he pushed and pulled until they were both sitting up, and then raised Derek’s pliant arms and slowly slipped the shirt over his head. Derek’s sweats followed soon after, but Stiles let him keep his boxer briefs on because he knew Derek was completely comfortable in his naked skin, but there was a line Stiles wouldn’t cross. 

There would be no sex until Derek could ask for it, so that last barrier remained there as a physical reminder to them both. _Fix this_ , the black cloth seemed to say. 

Stiles planned to. 

“I talked to Scott,” Stiles said, urging Derek to lay down on his stomach. From a drawer beside the bed, he pulled out some massage oil and began to warm it between his hands. Pressing them to Derek’s still-tense shoulders, Stiles began to work his fingers, digging them in and smoothing along firm flesh until Derek’s eyes fluttered closed and his pressed-together lips relaxed and parted on a breath. “He told me how much you helped him with that selkie last week. He didn’t know what he was doing and he was so scared, but you were right there beside him the whole time, encouraging him. I know he thanked you, but I don’t know if you understand what it means to him that he can count on you like that. You’re such a good beta, Derek, so good for him. So good for the pack. We count on you, you know. I know we shouldn’t, but we do.” 

A soft sound edged out of Derek’s throat then, and Stiles laughed. 

“Hush, you. We shouldn’t just count on you. We were such shits to you when you were Alpha–” 

A harsher noise made him pinch the skin over Derek’s ribs. 

“We _were_ , and you mostly didn’t deserve it. If we had just trusted you, if we’d _listened_ to you…” Stiles trailed off, an image of Erica’s laughing face flashing across his mind’s eyes. “Scott regrets that. _I_ regret it. Because you’re so smart, Derek. I know you were scared back then and angry, but you’re _so smart_. You know things that we’ll never think to ask. And if we ever start to take you for granted, you have my permission to tell us to go to hell.” 

He went quiet again, let that sink in while he moved on to Derek’s arms, alternating the massage with light strokes of his fingers over the hair that lay thick on his forearms. He dragged them over the backs of Derek’s hands, crept into the valleys between his lax fingers until he was stretched out, fully clothed, over Derek’s back, their cheeks pressed against each other as they just breathed. 

Shifting over, he moved Derek until he was curled up on his side and then Stiles spooned him, curving his legs up into the natural curve of Derek’s, his arms pulling Derek’s body back tight against his chest. “Dad called me too,” he said, thumb smoothing idly through Derek’s chest hair. “It still leaves him completely in awe to watch you shift. It does all of us, but it makes him giddy like a kid to see it. It’s such a beautiful thing, such a gift to be able to witness it.” Scrubbing his nose against the back of Derek’s neck to satisfy a mild itch, Stiles hunkered down until his forehead was resting against the base of Derek’s skull. “If you ever want to shift, you know you don’t have to wait. You can just do it any time. We love seeing you in your evolved form.” 

“I love you like this too,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of the triskele. “Every aspect of you is amazing to me. You’ve become …” He started to cut himself off as his voice went ragged, then continued anyway because it was important. “You’re everything to me,” he whispered roughly. “In any form you choose. You’re my whole world and when I can’t be with you, I feel like I’m drifting away.” 

“I thought I was your sun and stars,” Derek mumbled, his voice a little scratchy too, but filled with _life_. 

Stiles laughed, relief pouring through him as he leaned up to nip at Derek’s ear. “Hell yeah you are. Just like I’m the moon of your life.” 

Derek rolled over, a soft smile tugging at his lips, his beautiful eyes shining into Stiles’. “Hello, khaleesi.” 

“Hi, you dork.” Stiles wriggled around until he could prop himself up on Derek’s chest, his legs falling to tangle with Derek’s. He scratched his fingers through the hair on Derek’s jaw until Derek jerked his head away with a low growly sound. Grinning, Stiles batted his eyelashes and said, “I missed you.” 

Derek raised his eyebrows, wriggling his hips a little. “How _much_ did you miss me?” 

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” Lightning fast, he caught Derek’s hands and raised them above his head, leaning his weight on them just to hear Derek’s breath catch and watch his cheeks flush with arousal. Stiles’ grip on Derek’s wrists was tight and almost punishing as his grin went sharp and wicked. Rolling his hips down, he quirked his own brows and said, “You want me to count the ways I missed you?” 

Derek’s eyes flicked down to Stiles’ mouth, his tongue coming out and swiping at his lips, tempting Stiles. “Yeah,” he breathed, not even trying to move his arms, though he arched up as best he could into the press of Stiles’ body. “I… _need_ it. Need to feel you.” 

“Shh,” Stiles murmured, moving one hand down to press to the middle of Derek’s chest, because Derek’s eyes were growing a little wide, a little lost again. “I’ve got you. _You’ve got me_.” Leaning down, he pressed his lips lightly to Derek’s, dragging them back and forth until Derek moved his head into the kiss, opening his mouth and demanding _more_. 

But still his hands didn’t move from where Stiles had put them. 

“That’s right, baby boy,” Stiles murmured against Derek’s lips, the words dragging a low, needy whine from Derek that Stiles could feel vibrating the chest under his fingers. Stiles deepened their kiss, licking into Derek’s mouth and teasing at him with the tip of his tongue until the whine turned to a low purring noise. Smoothing his hand up between Derek’s pecs, Stiles wrapped his fingers lightly around Derek’s throat, glorying in the trust Derek showed just lying pliant beneath him. “Stay here,” he whispered, breaking the seal of their mouths. 

Rolling to the side of the bed, Stiles stripped his clothes quickly and efficiently, dropping them carelessly to the floor as he rooted in the bedside again for the lube. He didn’t want to presume, but he also didn’t want to have to stop again if Derek decided he wanted to go with full penetration. 

_God_ , Stiles hoped he did. 

All told, he was parted from Derek for about fifteen seconds, but even that was long enough to leave Stiles’ skin aching for the feel of Derek’s. His hands twitched as he crawled back over Derek’s big body, a genuine smile stretching his lips when he saw Derek’s hands still crossed above his head. “Good boy,” he praised, his voice filled with warmth. 

Derek just preened under him, chin lifting as pink dusted his cheeks and ears. His eyes shone with pride and happiness even as his hips shifted a little on the bed. Like a wriggling puppy. 

“I love you so fucking much.” The words just spilled out of Stiles, and it wasn’t anything he hadn’t said a dozen times in the past, but it caught him by surprise all the same. He tried to keep those sentiments from this portion of their life so that Derek was never again made to feel that his value was tied to his body. That Stiles’ emotions were dependent on sex. 

Because they weren’t, not at all. Stiles would love him just as much if Derek decided he never wanted to have sex – and sometimes he didn’t and that was fine. 

But at those words, Derek went soft, loose. His legs fell apart, inviting Stiles to slide right between them and his mouth just dangled open, showing the tips of his teeth and the pink of his tongue behind them. “I love you too,” he whispered finally, his eyes nearly glowing they were so bright. 

Stiles nodded, because he knew that, of course. It was something he’d _never_ take for granted, because it was too precious to him. He’d worked far too hard for it, fought too many invisible demons to earn it. 

Lifting Derek’s legs, Stiles placed them on his shoulders, knowing from long practice that Derek was more than flexible enough to move him like this. As he did so, he pressed soft, open mouthed kisses to the thick muscle of his thighs, breathing into each one tiny bits of praise for Derek’s strength and gentleness. His fierce loyalty and intelligence. 

And then he moved, touching Derek all over, worshiping his lover’s body in every way he could. He squeezed and groped and stroked and licked and bit every place he knew would draw broken groans from Derek. He stretched him and fingered him until Derek was nearly flipping himself over, he was bowed so far off the bed. 

Through it all, though, Derek’s hands stayed where Stiles had put them. 

When Derek finally gave him permission, when he _begged_ Stiles with a broken voice to fuck him, Stiles lined himself up and slid inside the space he had carved for himself so easily, shuddering at the feel of all that strength and heat squeezing around him. He stilled after that first stroke in, hands smoothing along Derek’s legs and up his chest, touching him everywhere, grounding him in the moment. His lips dragged over the thin skin of Derek’s collar bones before he scraped his teeth over the thick, pounding pulse in his neck. 

“Is this good or do you need more?” he asked, content to simply allow his hard cock to rest inside Derek’s body if that’s what he needed. 

“More. More, I want to feel you–” 

Leaning up on one elbow, he cocked a brow in question. “Hard or just thorough?” 

“Hard.” 

Stiles nodded and raised up, giving himself leverage even as he lifted Derek’s hips high. Wrapping one arm around Derek’s thighs, he pulled back and slammed forward hard, again and again and again until Derek’s cries filled the loft, until even the people on the street could probably hear them. He pounded into Derek’s body, imagining that he was leaving his mark in a hidden space deep inside, a space that was only his. 

That thought sent a flush through Stiles’ body that nearly stripped away his control, nearly had him coming too soon. But it was fine, because Derek was already there, body rippling around and underneath Stiles as his orgasm slammed through him, yanking Stiles over the precipice with him. 

Stiles dropped Derek’s legs, hunching forward with a punched-out moan as his stomach contracted, his entire body shaking as he came deep inside Derek. Collapsing forward, he burrowed into Derek’s chest, not pulling out, not yet. He wanted to stay inside, stay nestled deep inside Derek to protect all the vulnerable spaces. 

Reaching up, he tugged on Derek’s arms, an unspoken signal that Derek could move them again. And he did, lowering his hands to Stiles’ back and smoothing them up and down him, knowing how blindsided the intimacy of their actions left Stiles. How needy for Derek’s touch. 

It rebuilt Stiles, made him whole once more so he _could_ pull out, so he could joke and tease and be the strong foundation that Derek could lean on. 

Before all that, though, there was this. Shaky breaths and recovering heartbeats and hands moving over sweat-damp skin as they clung to one another and pressed words of devotion into each other’s skin. 


End file.
